For crying out loud

Jealousy is a terrible thing.

How come Spike gets to sit in the big seat? He ALWAYS gets to do the fun stuff. I want to be co-pilot!

Oh, for crying out loud, Bridget. You’ll get a turn in the big seat. Stop being a Big Baby.

Blogging is weird.

A reader wrote a comment wondering where I’ve been. “You have us worried.” How nice. And how weird. Not the reader, silly — this blogging business. Wow! a blog is a big commitment. If I engage readers in my life (now how weird is that?), then blogging has to be a daily part of my life. I cannot just go away. I need to relax and write about . . . whatever! Just regular, ordinary daily life-stuff. It’s time to give up trying to be perfect and let go! So I take on the challenge: Make every day interesting. Not a bad idea for all of us, huh?

Have you ever become verklempt at Wal-Mart?

Bored maybe. Nauseous occasionally. Disgusted usually. But verklempt?

I pick up a few items so I can finish some tasks around the house . . . rubber gloves and cleaning supplies, drill bits, light bulbs, a few grocery items and another plastic storage bin. Well . . . you know how you get in a “zone” while shopping? You’re a zombie, plodding around, eyeballs fixed. I’m in that state of mind — or lack of it — as I stand in front of the cashier at check-out. I get out my credit card to swipe through the scanner. That’s when I see, peeking out of my wallet, the gift card I received as a retirement gift. Oh, I’ve got to remember to use that. I absent-mindedly look at the back of the card and there in tiny hand-printing is “$100.”

“One hundred dollars?” I say out loud.

Now try to understand why this hit me with such emotional force.

Remember I do not go out of my way to make friends. I tend to wander off by myself when everyone is having a great time chatting it up. I don’t CARE what you did over the weekend, okay? Yet this person, by force of her own sincerity, warmth, and sense of humor, understood this and led me into a friendship, the kind of friendship I prefer, the kind I can handle. No obligations. No expectations. No pretenses. And best of all, no excited “Let’s go shopping!” We never went to each other’s house, never did anything special together, just work and occasionally a lunch break at a fast-food place. Most likely our paths will never cross again. And here she goes and gives me $100!

It is all I can do to hold back the tears.

The greeter waves me on and I schlep out to my car. (Why is Yiddish creeping into my writing today?) Driving out of the parking lot, I decide to order the GPS I’ve been wanting. The one that costs about $100 more than I want to spend! Or maybe a camera! So my blog photos aren’t so crummy! Hmmm. This friendship stuff. Maybe it ain’t so bad. (Just kidding.)

The PTV takes another bite out of my wallet.

I stop by the dealership to have them replace one of the back-up light bulbs and also read the pesky idiot-light that says “check engine.” The guy writes up a ticket and hands me a pen to sign it. “It’ll be $88 to check it and then we’ll deduct that from . . . . ” I suck in my breath so fast he looks up from the ticket. I manage to choke out, “Not today.”

He says, “Wait a minute, Ma’am.” I watch through the glass front as he goes out, gets a sensor thingy, turns on the PTV, checks the light and comes back in. It took about 57 seconds. “You have a vacuum leak in the emission system.”

At that moment I don’t care if I have a vacuum CLEANER in the emission system. “Just replace the bulb,” I mumble. The cost: $34.00. I’m numb.

12 Responses to For crying out loud

Hi. I have to tell you that I enjoy very much reading your posts and hearing about the latest event in your process of getting to your new life. Everyday is a big commitment, but once a week or every few days is a real treat. Thanks!

You want to understand blogging? Well there’s two ends of it, see, much like a pistol…er… no, bad metaphor. We kibitzers are on the wrong end of that one. And as I remember you are not yet a trained pistolero.

Okay, see, blogging… is a matter of reverse peristalsis. Things just can’t go both ways at once. First you swallow down these adventures, willy nilly. Then you throw them up. Then… urp… no, no, no… bad metaphor again. Bad, bad, bad. Though the dogs might understand.

Okay. Here’s the thing. The main reason to have the dogs along is so you won’t suffer for lack of a soap opera fix. And as long as you blog about it, neither will we. So hang in there. Once on your way, once a week is healthy output. The rest is gravy. Or digestion.

I see my blogging this way. My life is a cluttered garage that I keep sorting. Periodically I lift something up and say, “Take a look at this.” Mostly it’s just clutter but sometimes, underneath all the debris, I find something of value.

“Remember I do not go out of my way to make friends. I tend to wander off by myself when everyone is having a great time chatting it up. I don’t CARE what you did over the weekend, okay? Yet this person, by force of her own sincerity, warmth, and sense of humor, understood this and led me into a friendship, the kind of friendship I prefer, the kind I can handle. No obligations. No expectations. No pretenses. And best of all, no excited “Let’s go shopping!” We never went to each other’s house, never did anything special together, just work and occasionally a lunch break at a fast-food place.”

Ditto! Well-said!

That’s my kind of friendship too. It took me half a lifetime to understand that I am not an anti-social misanthrope but rather prefer the company of others in very small doses. I can recommend a book that persuasively validates this not-uncommon personality type: “Party of One: the Loner’s Manifesto”. http://www.amazon.com/Party-One-Manifesto-Anneli-Rufus/dp/1569245134

I passed on the message to Bridget. Don’t expect progress in that department.

Yes, Party of One! I love that book! I couldn’t believe what I was reading. It wasn’t until I read that book that I realized what I had suspected all my life: I’m NORMAL and the rest of the world is CRAZY! Now I wear my Loner identity with pride. I hope you do, too, Kim. You can use it to avoid stuff you hate. “Uh, no, I won’t be going to the club with you guys. You see, nothing personal, but I’m a bit of a loner and that sort of thing drives me nuts.” LOL

Hi Sue!
What you are finding out in life is that a Chevrolet is not a Honda. There will be people on here that probably won’t agree with me and there will be some that do, but if I were a betting man and I’m not…..I’d say your honda probably never gave you the headaches that this van has.
I don’t know your finances……but the first thing I would do (if the problems continue with your van) is to buy another Odyssey to tow the casita. Make sure you take the extended warranty and should you ever do so, email me and I’ll give you the name of a Honda Dealer that discounts their Honda warranties. No, I don’t work for them.
Please don’t be upset with my thoughts. I just think this van is going to bleed you dry. I hope and pray not.
Lew

Hi! I’m glad you “love” reading my posts. As for Spike, he’s going to be co-pilot from the back seat, alongside Bridget. I probably shouldn’t have let him get in the front. Now he’ll think that’s his spot!

Sue,
Take a look at your tail lights and front turn signals and see if there isn’t just 2 screws holding them in.
If so all you need is a screwdriver to take them out and then gently pry the lens out and YOU can then change your own light bulbs.